Five Years
by Dead Hero
Summary: '-Pain raced up and down his body and coursed through his veins-" He's home. He's finally home. He's been gone for a long, long time, being used and traded around the world. But now he's back and now has to face the aftermath.
1. Prologue

The old sewer lights blinked at random, illuminating him at different intervals. Pain raced up and down his body and coursed through his veins as he trudged through the runny debris. He wheezed and coughed harshly, bringing his hand to his mouth and drawing it back after feeling stickiness and gazed at it. It was thick crimson blood with black clots that ran down his three fingered hand and further stained his dirty, torn wrist wraps.

_Almost...there..._

He panted. Never in his life had he been so tired. Every muscle screamed at him and his legs shook in agony as he forced his body to take just _one more step_. He stumbled and dropped to his knees, hacking and choking as something forced its way up his throat. A liquid thinner than the previous poured out of his lips, spewing all over the sluggish sewage and the narrow concrete walkways for the workers.

_No, no, no, NO! Not now! Not again!_

He moaned as he wiped blood and unrecognizable, half-digested chunks of bile off his face. He tormented himself as dug his broken fingernails into his skin, trying to use the temporary pain as a distraction from the stomach acid burning his throat. He grasped the strap of his pack tighter and stood shakily. The sharp clang of metal could be heard and a ringing sound resonated through the tunnels as he clawed at the gritty wall.

**_Splish...Splat..._**

He limped unsteadily in the disgusting flux of waste, some clinging to his legs. A half-hearted swat did nothing and he sighed. It wasn't like removing sewage from his person would make the wounds he had accumulated be miraculously fixed. The injuries burned as the infection that had set there grew from the bacteria. The young creature hissed in pain and gritted his teeth.

_God damn it..._

_...Oh, fuck!_

He quickly halted and nearly tripped over his feet and opened the ragged satchel, moving things around as he desperately looked for something. A green hand brushed against the sought after object and he pulled it out and sighed in relief.

_Thank GOD..._

The mutant replaced the item and threw the bag over his shell, knocking against the scarred carapace. The nerves tingled slightly as the rough cloth brushed against the abused area.

He sloshed on, panting as every movement drained him. He licked his lips, grimacing at the metallic taste.

_It'd just be easier to lie down, I could just take a short nap._

He halted suddenly as the the flitted across his mind and blinked in shock at the glorious sounding prospect. Then he shook his dome, now disturbed by the very idea.

_No, I need to get back to my brothers. No matter the cost. I'll fall asleep and never open my eyes again. I HAVE to get back. Even... even if they don't want me._

Minutes passed as the turtle slogged through the sewers, searching for his home. It was nearby, he could feel it in his shell.

_So close... where's the door?... ah, they moved the lever... probably didn't want me to find the lair again...damnit.._

He pawed weakly at the concrete wall, blindly feeling for trigger that his _brothers _must have moved from its usual spot as a disguised busted pipe. He felt the hidden, metal door slide away as he found the lever and pulled down, activating the electric door.

**_Click_**_..._**_Hisssss_****...****_Shiiiiiiink_**_..._

The concrete rushed to meet his face as the door he had leaned on opened all the way and dropped him on the floor. It sent a spike of pain through his head and added to his perpetual headache. The new, bright, shining lights of the lair contrasted greatly to the ones of the sewer and other lights he had come across and blinded him momentarily as his eyes struggled to adjust. "Uurngh..." He groaned in pain as his bag made a cacophony and drew attention.

_"...!" "Holy shell!" "Quick, get him on the couch."_

Footsteps slapped loudly against the floor, their owners' disregarding years of stealth training in favor of collecting their fallen sibling. He felt multiple hands gathering under his limbs and hoisting him in the air. He shivered as a slight breeze flowed around him as he was carried swiftly to the couch. A huge light hooked to the ceiling was straight above him, so he screwed his eyes shut, closing his eyelids tightly.

_"NO!"_

A sharp slap to his bruised cheek made his head whip and eyes snap back open, glaring at the offender. They glared back.

_"You have to stay awake!"_

_But he was tired!_

No matter how many times he was shook from the brink, he kept letting his eyelids fall as if heavy weights were attached to them, weighing them down.

_..."My sons... ...a...?!"_

_"Master Splinter! Help!..."_

He smiled grimly and stared into the wide eyes of his brothers and sensei, all with fear and concern burning in their eyes. He saw their eyes widen with fear when blood spilled out of his mouth and besmirched his teeth as he gave a weak laugh.

"Nice to see you, brothers..."

He saw them freeze and become distracted by his last fading word. He felt himself teetering on the edge of consciousness as his hold slipped. He saw them shouting and frantically moving around and grinned.

_Now I can sleep._

So he let go.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	2. Chapter 1

_Soft._

That was the first thing He was aware of when he woke up. Weary eyes looked around the room, spotting dusty medical equipment, color coded cots, a coffeemaker and a sink. Ah, the infirmary. The mutant rolled on his side, fingering the white cotton sheets, and pressed his head against the pillow, fighting the urge to throw them in the trash and to lay on the concrete floor, unaccustomed to luxury of a pallet and bedding. He sighed and decided to ignore the wanting, knowing his brothers and father would throw a fit if he did so. He licked his dry, cracked lips and bit them.

_Water._

He looked closer and spotted a plastic bottle of water on the night stand. A small groan released itself from his lips as his shoulder gave a quick shriek of pain as he extended it too far. The turtle wiggled himself up on the cot and leaned over and just barely snagged the bottle. He attempted to unscrew the lid, but he lacked the strength to do so. He growled and smashed the polyethylene container against the edge of the wooden bedside table. Water trickled out of a crack and He grinned at the small victory. The mutant placed his beak around the unnatural opening and sucked water through it as hard as he could. Cool liquid ran down his parched throat and He pulled the plastic bottle back and sighed with happiness as droplets of water pearled and dripped down his scarred plastron.

The door on the far side of the room opened and before it was fully accessible for walking, words poured through.

"Let's see: make sure Sensei gets his meds- check. Check up on... you're up!"

He smirked as Donnie rushed to his side, his clipboard of carefully organized and compiled notes dropping to the floor, sending sheets of paper through the air. "Are you okay? What hurts the most? God, it's good to see you again- you shouldn't be over reaching yourself this soon!" The shelled mutant internally rolled his eyes as his brother struggled to stay in 'Doctor Mode'.

Minutes passed with no response, no acknowledgment of being heard.

"Good... to see.. you too...Donatello," He rasped out, causing Donnie's eyes to light up. He coughed and Don traded joy for worry. "Oh gosh, sorry, let me get you some water! Huh, there was a water bottle here a second ago..." Don trailed off as he saw his brother already sucking down the sought after object, just the wrong way.

"Why are you doing it like that?" The healthy turtle inquired his patient. The patient sighed and gestured to the lid and then to the small hole he had made and returned to his drinking. "Ahh," Donnie reached down and grabbed his clipboard and jotted it down.

"Soooo, how do you feel?"

He snorted at the question and nodded to the numerous bandages and lacerations that covered his body.

"Okay, what hurts the most?"

He shrugged.

Donnie frowned, that wasn't good. He jotted it down with his pen and looked over the top of his papers and saw his blank face. "Uh, you okay bro?"

A nod.

His eyebrows rose at the inaudible answer, but he continued his questions.

"Hav-" Donnie was cut of as He gave a gut deep, lung rattling cough, hacking and gasping for breath. "Oh god! Bro, let me help-" Donatello's efforts were waved off as a He placed his other hand on his nostrils and plugged them, forcing himself to breathe through his mouth. After a few seconds the coughs settled and He gave a nod, motioning for his _ani _to go on. Don shook his head. "I think'd be better if we continued on a different day."

He nodded and then lifted the water bottle, sucking down the remains of its contents. Donnie took the plastic bottle and retreated, but not before he took the sheets bunched by his brother's feet and draped them over the weary turtle.

"Goodnight brother," Donnie whispered as he flicked the light switch off and softly closed the door, blanketing the room in shadows.

* * *

><p><em>"You <strong>stupid <strong>monster!" _

_He gave a concealed grin at his master's frustration and blinked some blood out of his eyes.  
><em>

_"How can even a **mutant **__screw it up?"_

_A sharp slap to his face punched holes and made a deep cut into his face as the sharp, thick needled ring added to his agony as it was dragged around his scarred head._

* * *

><p><em>"Hey!"<em>

_"Oh god, is he okay Don?"_

_"He's having a nightmare, you dumbass, he'll fine."_

_"Dumbass?"_

_"Hey guys! I think he's waking up!"_

* * *

><p>He saw blurs of varying shades of green and brown-ish gray and a soft maroon. Strange, alien sounds came from the entities and he grimaced as it grated against his eardrums. The colors swirled around his vision and he groaned and almost batted at them, but his survival instincts held him back. What if they meant no harm? Or maybe they were waiting for the right moment to strike.<p>

Either way, he closed his eyes and deepened his breath as to fool the colors that he was asleep. He thought of laying on some sandy beach and see-through blue waves of calm washing over him and he felt his tight face loosen and relax. The sounds faded to nothing more than a faint echo and the turtle relaxed, face twisting up again as he felt that his muscles had become sore from being tense for so long.

He counted the seconds, and the minutes, and then the hours until He was sure he could open his eyes. Nothing happened, so he went a step further. He tilted his head upward and took a long, very deep breath. His ribs rattled and his lungs ached when he exhaled, but he gave a happy sigh. It had been a while since he had been able to do that.

**_Thap, thwap, thap._**

_Footsteps!_

He quickly snapped his eyes shut and forced his straining muscles to fall slack. The _kame_ once again thought of his dear ocean, but soon felt his heartbeat rising as a voice pierced through his illusion. The image began to fall apart and he heard another voice, one more familiar, but still one to be wary of.

"_Hand me that sedative!_"

The mutant became thankful that his unlucky stars changed their tune for once, because seconds after those words a soft, recognizable feeling, a prick, puckered his leathery skin and he fell deep into a real sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	3. Chapter 2

This time, a voice brought him out of his slumber.

"-God, I just hope your okay. I know we've had our differences in the past, our opinions not always lining up, but...damn it, _**outouto**_. Please come back..." The soft, broken voice trailed off in a way that screamed relief along with anxiety and self guilt.

_Leonardo._

"-I know I've not always been the most...understanding towards you, but I swear on my honor, I'll fix that."

_Aw, Leo..._

"Remember that time, when we went topside right after your birthday? You were so excited and manipulated me into going with you."

He could almost hear Leo's smile.

"And we ran into the street as soon as we were out of the alley and almost got squashed by that eight wheeler, and the driver swore at us. I think that was the first time I heard someone say 'fuck' five times in one sentence... yeah, that was fun."

Leo's hand gave a tight squeeze and he winced as it squished his tender hand.

"Ngh!"

The hand withdrew as if struck by lightning and a tentative voice came from his right, "Bro?"

He cracked open his eyes and gave a tiny, barely noticeable nod and arms were swung around his shell and held tight. The two mutants stayed like that for what felt like hours and finally the embrace loosened and fell.

The injured brother kept the pain off his face, but inside he was screaming.

_AHHHHH! JESUS SHITTING HELL THAT HURT! ARGH!_

After a few minutes, Leo spoke up, interrupting his internal cries. "Are you, okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He gave a diminutive smirk, "I'm...fine, bro." He gave a thumbs-up and hoped to god that Leo didn't see that his hand was trembling with effort and that his voice had been strained.

"Christ, you're shaking! Here, let me get you a blanket," He cursed at himself as he saw Leo shuffle over to a wicker basket in the corner filled with each mutant's personal medical bay blanket -color coded to avoid arguing between the turtles, pick one up and bring over to him. He grasped the blanket tight and looked up at his older brother, confused. This wasn't his color, this was a dark indigo blanket.

Leo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. I had to give you mine because we kind of have yours packed away because we thought you were dead. Sorry, too many memories."

He shrugged and buried his beak in the soft, blue blanket and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Leo- lotus flowers, unscented candles, and sword polish. The mutant gave a small, happy sigh and carefully laid back, turning over to lay on his plastron, mindful of his various injuries. He leaned backward and carefully drew the comforter around him carefully, as to avoid his copious injuries.

He closed his eyes and snuggled in and was on the verge of falling asleep, when he heard Leo shuffling his feet. He rolled his eyes and sat back up, wincing at the sudden movement. Leo's eyes widened in shock and he started forward to help his younger brother, but was waved off with a growl.

"What...the hell...do ya want, Leo?" He rasped out, and damn it, his throat felt like it was going to burst.

"Uh..." Leo seemed unsure and He snorted and nodded his head towards the door.

"'Less ya... need...somethin', fuck off."

Leo's blue eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull in shock, but then he relaxed and simply leaned over and placed a ginger kiss on the bandages wrapping around his head. He scowled, screwing up his eyes for but a second, and when he opened them Leo was gone. He snarled and bit the inside of his mouth.

_How the hell does he do that?_

...

...

...

...

He shivered. Damnit he was cold. Whatever, the chilly air was preferable scorching deserts. God, he hated deserts.

_I wonder if Leo's ever been to a desert. If he crossed one on his journey to the Ancient One. Hmph, guess I'll ask next time he comes around._

**Tiiiiiick tooooock. Tiiiiiick tooooock. Tiii- **A stiletto impaled Donnie's 'Dead Geniuses' clock that hung above his desk. A few sparks flew off and he smirked with a certain degree of satisfaction that you only get after you've destroyed the enemy. The mutant flexed his hand and his face contorted into a horrific grimace. Shit, his throwing hand was damaged. Crap.

He started rubbing his hand with concern. If his hand didn't get better than he was screwed. Maybe he could borrow acupuncture needles from Leo after he moved out of the god forsaken medical bay. Even then, he'd give it a few months to let him try to heal it by himself. He gently moved his injured arm off the sheets and onto his plastron in a way for then he could massage his injured hand without sparks of pain shooting up his arm.

"Aaaahhhhhh..." He sighed in relief as his brain started to perceive the gentle ministrations and gave him relief. Minutes went by and he just kept rubbing his hand, zoning out into a blank mind set that gave him sweet pleasure. A jarring cacophony sounded from the door and the mutant was on his feet, keeping most of the tension in his hips to try to give his injured feet some rest. He held his hands up and went for his nunchaku, eyes widening in horror as he fingered empty air.

He quickly looked around and spied a scalpel soaking in a cup of antibacterial liquid and grabbed the cup. When the attacker came in, he could throw the disinfectant into their eyes and assault it with the scalpel and run, fast and far away. As he saw the steel door knob turn he froze, almost slapping himself at his stupidity. The turtle quickly ran behind the cot and crouched as low to the floor as he could, biting his inside of his cheek hard as not to scream as his wounds were jolted and stretched.

Someone yelled and the knob paused, he tensed and shifted his grip on his scalpel. The grey concrete he was kneeling on turned into a wooden floor, the bed into shipping crates with something crying and groaning in pain inside of them, the whole medical bay into a rickety warehouse. The smell of Irish Cream coffee and Clorox wipes changed into a rank fishy stench permeated by blood. The somewhat familiar voices yelling were twisted and deepened into deep, grating, accented voices chuckling and cheering and moaning in delight. Before he knew it, he was back in the docks of Russia. His scalpel lengthened and became a futuristic bayonet gun- an AK-47 with a machete attached.

He blinked and suddenly a short, burly man in green yelling at him barged through the door that separated the loading bay and offices. The scarred turtle blinked in shock. This wasn't how it happened. He shook his head and stood, furrowing his brows at the man in green, confused on why he wasn't attacking him or at least surprised that a five foot turtle with a weapon was in the bay. No matter.

He climbed on one of the crates and made a soothing sound to the creature inside.

_It'll be okay_, he silently promised the being and glared at the European.

"Вы будете платить за ваши грехи ! Было предопределено мастеров , что вы , ваше племя и город будет платить!" He shouted the man's face became confused. Why didn't he understand? The man in green should understand! The weaponized reptile growled and jumped toward the man, holding the gun in an icepick hold so then the human would be stabbed. He'd just have to make him understand!

Midway through the jump, everything flickered and suddenly he was coming down hard on his brother with a scalpel, the medical tool aimed for big, tired eyes looking at him in... fear? He quickly swung his arm out, spinning away from the turtle and landed on a pile of broken medical equipment.

He screeched as metal jabbed into him and then smiled as he reasoned that the pain was punishment for attempting fratricide. Frantic words spilled into his ears as someone tried to dig him out. "Leave me aloooooone," he groaned and pushed away the calloused hands that gently pulled him out from the pile of junk.

"Damn it, bro. Stop pulling this crap! Now shaddup and let's get you fixed up," an accented voice came from over his left shoulder as he was dragged on to the bed. "Sorry," he mumbled and looked down at his re-bandaged arm and stiffened as butterfly bandages were skillfully placed on his forehead.

As the clock ticked by, the only sound that could be heard was the two brothers breathing. After he was bandaged, the standing ninja sat down next to him.

"Sooooooo... you going to tell me what that was all about?"

_No ya dipshit. I am NOT going to tell you._

"That was some serious stuff. Anything wrong?"

_Noooooooo. No, no, no, no, NO! Jesus fuck, no!_

"You ain't gonna talk? Whatever, I'll come later with some food that Donnie approves of."

The bed creaked and groaned as the his brother stood, cracked his fingers and left the room. He noticed that the door was left open and he smiled and called out in a hoarse, rasping voice,

_"Thanks, Raph!"_

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the late update. The last brother has been shown and you can figure out from here who the injured turtle is. <strong>

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 3

**_Water._**

_It was** everywhere**._

_It surrounded him, it smothered him, and crushed his lungs._

_No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get to the surface. Something was holding him under. He looked down toward the sea floor and saw that his bag had gotten caught on a patch of coral reef._

_No, no, no, no, no! After this he was told he could go home, go see his brothers, kiss his sister on the cheek, and hug his father as tight as he could without killing the old tea-drinker. _

_He tugged and tugged and tugged, but it wouldn't come free. He felt the air coming to his face start to diminish and he looked at the oxygen meter on the steel tank. He felt his breathing quicken, making the needle start to point down dangerously fast. God, he wished he was a turtle. Then he could get a big lungful of air and be fine for an hour or two. _

_But he wasn't._

_He was a stupid **human**._

_He didn't have the luxury of big lungs because he was a freaking, ugly, pale-faced human male. _

_He gave a grim smile and bit his tongue to avoid gasping for more air. He would laugh, but then he would die sooner. Oh well, he was going to die anyways, so why not?_

_A small giggle escaped his lips, and then a chuckle, a cackle, and then full blown, hysterical laughter. The air fogged up his mask and he couldn't see, he felt his lungs writhe and scream in agony as they stopped receiving air, but he didn't care. He just laughed and laughed and fucking **laughed**._

_As black edged its way into his vision and eventually domineered the view of foggy plastic, he could have sworn he felt something pull on his leg._

* * *

><p>He gasped as his eyes flew open and he greedily sucked in air in between coughs. He felt a warm, three fingered hand touching his shell, rubbing the still raw wounds and he hissed and scooted away and looked backwards. It was a big, blue eyed Leonardo whose hand was frozen in mid-air in surprise.<p>

"Whaa-"

"What the fuck, Leonardo! Why the hell are ya messing with my open wounds, it fucking stings!"

Leo stared at his youngest brother who was seething, eyes burning with rage. It was almost frightening.

"WELL! You going to answer, 'cause I'd like a goddamn answer!" Michelangelo yelled and in gesticulating his anger, his plastered arm swung into the wall, making a resounding _SHRAK! _Michelangelo didn't flinch and snarled as the eldest brother put his hand forward to help him.

Leo started, "Mikey-", and was cut off by a deep, rasping growl. Leonardo bit his tongue and studied Mikey. This behavior was an imitation of a drunk Raphael who had been previously irritated with Leo. This was NOT something Mikey would do.

Mike tried to swing his legs off the bed so he could pace, but found that he couldn't. "What the hell?" Michelangelo forced himself to go through the motions of lifting his legs and putting the on the floor and he tried and tried and couldn't. He lifted the scratchy linen sheets to see that his legs were plastered.

_Ah shit._

His anger evaporated as disbelief overcame it. "What is this?"

"What's what?" Leo's right eyebrow lifted, somehow making him seem superior yet concerned at the same time.

Mike gestured to his legs. "THIS."

Leonardo relaxed and re-positioned himself and leaned against the headboard. "Oh, that. Yeah, I know you hate Wheelster, but Dr. Donatello ordered it," Leo gave his younger brother an easy, tired grin, believing that he had explained it well.

_Wheelster_. A nine letter word that use to inspire loathing and exasperation in him. Now, Mike was just pissed, but for a different reason than what his eldest leader was thinking.

"Leo."

"Yeeeeees?" Leo drawled it out, not wanting to hear the words behind his name because the way Mike said it..it... it was so... melancholy.

"Why do think I don't like that my legs are in casts?"

The question confused Leo. Was Mikey trying to confuse him? Of COURSE he knew why.

"Uh, yeah. When you were fifteen- god, that was a while back- you broke both of your legs fighting Hun and you were confined to a wheelchair for two months. You nicknamed it Wheelster and I remember that only because one time you rolled down _two stories _of steps straight into Raph, screaming 'FOR WHEELSTER!'." Leo chuckled fondly at the memory. "You shattered your right arm and Raph's collarbone was fractured. You were in hysterics."

Mike nodded the whole time. Yes, he remembered that incident quite vividly. Though in more detail than his brother. He gave a tiny shudder and passed it of as a rolling of his shoulders. "Yeah! That was loads of fun. I can still hear Raph's girlish scream!" Mike pasted on a faux smile a gave a short, dry laugh. A laugh that even a deaf person could tell was fake. Leo grinned back at him.

_Huh, I guess Leo's Hawaiian._

Michelangelo sighed and gave a large, greatly exaggerated yawn, stretching his arm _way _behind his head. "Well, Leonardo. I'm tired, I'm gonna go ta sleep if that's alright with you."

Leo nodded quickly and stood. "Okay Mikey. If you need something than just give a shout. 'Night."

He gave a short nod and laid back down, hissing at the jerkiness of his movement. He heard the door click shut and he smirked. He wouldn't have heard that last year.

_Last year..._

Mikey frowned and sat back. He touched his ear slit and hissed in pain. Dammit, it was still there. It hurt like a bitch.

He looked around the room for something to distract himself with, but found nothing. "Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrrrrrrbrbrbrbrbrbbbbbbbb," Mike vibrated his lips to make a sound that resembled an engine. He reached over to the bedside table and pushed up and over, moving himself off the cot. He sighed and looked back at his explosion at Leo.

He could picture it from a third point of view. Michelangelo could see himself yelling in anger at Leonardo and he could see Leo flinch back in shock at his littlest brothers rage over him just trying to comfort him.

"Damn it," he groaned and pinched the bridge of his beak and ran his hand down his face. "I screwed up again, didn't I?" Mikey asked the silence.

"Yeah, ya did."

Mike grabbed the roll of bandages to his left and unrolled a strip. He tore it off and pounced on the intruder and held the white cloth tight against their throat. Brown eyes dilated in shock and Donnie gasped from the force. "Mikey! Get off!"

The patient quickly recoiled into himself and Don sat up, rubbing his throat. He glanced over at his brother, becoming concerned as Mikey didn't move. Not even for breathe. Donnie waved his hand in front of his younger brother's face and pulled back as the eyes snapped open.

"Oh, fuck. It's you," Mike sighed and stood awkwardly. He waddled over and sat on the cot. He stared at the floor, blue eyes starting to glaze over as minutes went by without either turtle doing a thing. Finally, Donatello moved forward. He plopped ungracefully onto the bed and leaned back, his head hanging off the edge.

"Soooooo..."

"So?" Mikey echoed Donnie in a more inquisitive tone as he twisted toward the inventor. Don propped himself on his elbow and raised a single eyebrow ridge- a skill that the Old Mikey had been jealous of because it made Don look like an actor in a movie.

"Why did you attack me, Mikey?" Damn Don. Always straight to the point, no beating around the damn bush for this genius. He spoke, aiming to tell the truth, but his training quickly overrode any hope to be honest. "You shocked me, I was lost in thoughts, imagining I was in the show Crognard. I was fighting this real wicked, tentacle, squish dude and then ya tapped my shoulder..." Mike trailed off, letting his brother come to the conclusion. He hoped that and since he let some of his old, fake Californian accent and manner of speech into the last sentence would lead Donnie to believe the lie.

Damn, Don was nodding, as if he was actually believing what Mike had said. Fuuck.

"Are you okay?"

Mike looked oddly at Don who had gotten on his knees and was inspecting the plaster on his leg casts. Donnie was humming and muttering to himself as he inspected Mike's legs.

"Yes, what are you doing?" Mike inquired, but received no answer. All he got was, "You cracked the plaster, I need to redo it. How the shell did you crack it? Whatever, I'll redo it." OOOOOH. Mike gazed down at his legs, now in the state of being un-plastered by a small, hand-held saw. When he had leaped at his brother, he must have broken the seams(?) of the cast. That's not possible though. Hmm, weirder shit had happened.

"What the fuck!?"

Mike jumped up on the bed, able to now as the casts had been removed. He looked down at the staring, frightened, so_ scared_, big eyes of his older brother. Donnie was gaping at his legs in horror, unable to to tear his eyes away. Mike thanked whatever omnipotent presence out there that the medic bay had been makeshift-ily soundproofed, as with the terrified screams of Donnie surely would have drawn the others.

"What's wrong?" Mike questioned, garnering a single fingerpoint at his revealed legs. Oh. Ooooooooh. Well, fuck. The injured mutant grimaced and glared at the metallic sheen of the cybernetics that They had neglected to cover up. Sometimes Mike thought They left the style of the uncovered metal in a futuristic, alien tech way because They weren't allowed to tattoo him. They also liked it more when he wore pants. That could be it.

"Mikey! MIKEY!" Mike snapped out of it and caught the waving, green hand and frowned. He was sitting. "When did I sit down?" He muttered. "Uh, Michelangelo?" The patient's head whipped up and stared at the nervous mutant before him. "Why," Don looked closely at the metal than at his face. "Is there metal embedded seamlessly into your legs?"

Mike would've sweated out of nervousness if he remembered how to. Instead he internally groaned out of annoyance. GREAT. _Another lie_. _Just what I FUCKING NEED! _On the outside, he attempted to assuage his brother's ever-growing concern. "In my travels I was seriously injured and a friend repaired me the best they knew how." Well, not a _total _lie. More of a... _misguided truth _per say.

To say Don calmed down would be being dishonest. Concern was replaced with curiosity and- _oh fuck no, damnit, I forgot he was a goddamn SCIENTIST! _-fascination. "How do they work? What happened, _when _did this happen? Where were you? What's his, uh, _their_ name?..." Mike tuned out the excited babble of his science-y brother and tried to regain control his breathing. This was his _brother_, not a _real_ scientist with sticky thing and scalpels and-

"Mikey?" Soft, melt-in-them-like-you-would-a-therapist's brown eyes peered into him. Oh fuck, Don was trying to do that 'I'm the family therapist, blah blah, tell me your problems so then I can tell the others behind your back after I tell you I honor a doctor patient confidentiality oath and then we can _fix _you' thing. Nope, it wasn't going to work on Michelangelo. Not the infamous Whip. Nope. Not at aaaaall-

"Everything's fine Don. Just a tad overwhelmed with actually being _here _instead of Germany of something. And with you talking with all of you techno, really fast babble..." Don's eyes softened even _more _if that could be possible. _Yuss... I didn't spill my guts. Just my appendix...which was removed two years ago. _

"I'm sorry Mikey, it's just that... I am really _excited!_- that you're back and we're, _I'm _so happy," Don got back on the cot and slung an arm around his neck. "And, well... you know me." Don pulled back and his cheeks tinged with a dark green. "I always get excited over the prospect of the technology for me to explore." The arm had been removed and was now rubbing Don's neck bashfully. Mike barely stopped himself from tensing, knowing that the trained ninja beside him would pick up on his distress. _Damnit he is your **brother**! he is **NOT **going to hurt me!_

"Well, this chat has been informational. I'd better let you sleep, Mikey. And you _better_ not move those legs, so help me God I _will _tranquilize you," Donnie slid of the cot and gave a brotherly glare at Mike. He shifted in the bed and nodded along as Don continued to talk. "So good night, Mikey. Since you don't need a wheelchair-" Don gave a inquisitive glance at Mike and he nodded. "You can come out of the medical bay tomorrow to eat."

Don walked out the door and then popped his head back in, "But I want you to stay in here for another week, just to monitor you for any infection. And drink your soup!" With that he was gone. Mike glanced curiously over to the side table and there it was, a bowl of tomato soup. Huh, he guessed Raphael did come through with the food thing. He shifted over and picked it up cautiously, taking care to not slosh anymore out.

Mike saw a shadow peering in from the doorway, hovering almost undecidedly. "Come in," Mike spoke at normal tone, knowing that then ninja outside would be able to detect it. The shadow stayed there and Michelangelo frowned in confusion. Odd, his brothers- he guessed judging upon the height of the shadow- should have been able to hear it. "Come in!" He raised his voice and now the door opened. It was Leonardo. _Oh **fuck**_.

The older mutant stood awkwardly in the doorway until Mike ushered him in with a wave. Leo sat down on the bed across from his- Raph's by the red blanket- and sighed. "Uh, Mikey, I wanted to apologize for whatever I did that upset you." Mike made a motion to get up but didn't as Leo continued. "I had come in with some soup and saw you were having a nightmare," the leaf-green turtle's face twisted up. "Or at least I think you were. You looked like you were chocking and you were laughing and crying, and it was really awful." Shit, _that _nightmare. "And so I was just rubbing your shell because it I thought it'd be comforting."

Now Mike felt like a huge dickhead. Even more of one than he felt earlier. Also kind of pissed because Raph said he would bring him food, but it was _Leo _which adds to the feeling of dickhead-edness. "Ah shit, Leo. It's just,"-search for a lie, search for a _really good _lie- "I was dreaming about this food convention I was at and I won a lot of free food somehow and then it was stolen by this jackass and it was this huge **_beschissen Scheiße Sache_**," he ended in German, hoping that Leo hadn't learned it while he was gone and that it would confuse the older turtle. Apparently it did, because Leo just nodded with a trying-to-understand-you-but-I-really-don't-so-I'll-just-pretend-to look on his face.

"Well, that's sorted." Leonardo stood. "I'm going to the dojo, which you won't be able to go to until you're all better," the elder mutant smirked. "And we can then see if you picked up anything while you were away with a spar." Mike nearly groaned. He had almost forgotten what a huge training nut his brother was. Then again for awhile he was too, not that Leo knew that. "Yeah, we will!" Mike shouted at the retreating back of Leo. "We will," he whispered, echoing himself. He placed the half-empty bowl on the bedside table and laid down on the bed.

He couldn't _wait _to wipe the dojo's floor with Leo's ass.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys. Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows. I'm sorry if you think Don and Leo acted OOC-ish. And for the <em>really <em>late chapter. Oops. I just have these huge writer's block issues and then I get into a groove and the you get a chapter. I also re-named this to Five Years b/c with all the shit I have planned for poor, poor Mikey, he's going to need more than just _one _year.**

**Mikey: Why me? Why can't Leo or Don, or hell, even _Raph_ go thru some shit?**

**Me: Oh they will, they _will_.**

**Me: *grins evilly***

**P.S. If someone would like to make me some awesome cover art, that'd be beast.**


	5. Chapter 4

**_Boredom._**

A feeling that can drive even the most intellectual and disciplined minds to break down.

It was something that Mike was very acquainted with. His brothers might say they were frenemies; you know, if there was a sentient being of boredom. Michelangelo hadn't experienced it in a long while with his... _travels_ occupying his mind. Now that Mike was back, strapped down to Donnatello's god-fucking-shitting medical table, boredom decided to pay a long, over-due visit.

Boredom and Mike's conversation went something like this:

_**You're bored, you're bored!~**_

_*silence*_

_**Oh! You think you can ignore ME you little shit! Uhnuhn, no, we are going to find something to do, God help, or I will drive IN-sane-UH!**_

_...Vas te faire foutre._

_**Ugh, damn you. Whatev-s! You're already bonkers and you ARE tapping your fingers to Mozart, so I guess I've succesfully made you... what's the word?- BORED!**_

"Fuuuuuuuck I'm sooo bored!" Mike moaned, deciding to secede and let Boredom win this round. "SHIIII~T..."

"Well, you wouldn't be bored if you didn't fricking attack Leo!" Don said angrily. The tall genius slammed the medical bay's door shut and sat on his spinny chair. Mike groaned. _Oh riiiiight... that._

Donnie sighed as he pushed over to the recycled examination table. "Look Mike, I just have to check you over and ask a few questions. Plus, none of us really think of your freak out as an attack," Don added. "This is just a precaution."

Michelangelo sighed and stared blankly at the dusty wall covered in ratty medical posters and cork board holding up pins and sticky notes. He studied the notes, penned in his older brother's familiar writing, as Donatello checked his wounds and re-did his bandages.

**Pg. 457 AoG**

**Ask April for help**

**Fix the toaster and upgrade it so then Leo can't break it**

**Deutsch lernen**

"-ike? Mikey?"

Mike snapped to. "Ja, arzt?"

Donnie looked startled. "What?"

_Oh right, English. Speak English, I'm in America._

"Yes," Michelangelo sighed and cocked his head.

"Uh..." Don looked at his clipboard in his hand, at the note Mike had been reading, then back at Mike. "We are almost done here, you are healing up nicely. Just need to ask a few questions," as Don said the last sentence his voice took on a comforting, you-can-trust-me tone.

_Seriously Don?_

"So, Michelangelo," Donnie looked straight at Mikey with a soft face. Mikey nearly squirmed at the increase in attention. He would have if he had not grown somewhat used to it. Don went on,"How are you?"

Mike nearly snorted with bemusement. "I'm good, Don."

_Sure you are._

Don leaned looking concerned. He rested his hand on Mikey's warm knee and nearly flinched, the sharp contrast between the cool metal and hot flesh. "You sure, bro?"

"Yeah, Donatello. I'm...chill," Mike hastily added on the tacky word, internally cringing at the immaturity of it. If Mike wanted to fool his older, smarter brother, he would have to act how he used to. Don relaxed and set down his papers.

"Okay then. Uh," suddenly Donnie wasn't very sure if this was a very good question. "Never mind."

Mike observed Donatello sharply, knowing what the genius wanted to ask and was thankful that he didn't. "Right, so un-strap me and let me go get some food." Don's amber eyes widened. "No!"

Donnie quickly backtracked as he saw his younger brother's quizzical face. "What I mean is that you aren't healed enough." He pointed at Mikey's wrapped side. "Your ribs are still cracked and some of the lacerations haven't fully closed."

Don heard a soft, understanding sigh from his patient. "And what do you mean 'un-strap you'?"

Mikey felt a laugh gurgle in the back of his throat, but didn't let it out. He gestured to the the leather strap that bound his right thigh to the creaky table. Donnie's eyes widened almost comically and looked up at Mike. "I didn't do that," the purple colored turtle pointed at the offending object.

"Hnn."

The injured fiddled with the hide strip and unbuckled it with ease. Now that Mike knew he was allowed to unbuckle himself, he would.

_Why did I do that? _

_Oooooooh, wait, textbook psychology information coming up..._

_...a familiar object could soothe frazzled nerves..._

"Must have done it while you were talking to Leo and Raph," Mikey explained. "I got bored and probably did it while I was zoning," he continued with an easy grin.

Don laughed along with Mike's lie -well, half-truth- and stood. He grabbed his notes and sat down next to his shorter brother. Wait, shorter? Not much shorter? Donnie sat up straight which prompted Michelangelo to do the same. Mike's back went ridged with a militaristic intent, Donatello jotted down mentally.

Donnie looked down and found that Mikey's head was now only an inch from his eyes. Which meant Mike was only two inches shorter than Don was.

"Holy crap!"

Mike bit the inside of his cheek. Don just cursed -though mildly- which was hilarious. His brothers never cussed, except the occasional 'shit' from Raphael. "So, what's interesting?"

His older brother looked at him with surprised eyes. "You've grown nearly ten inches since we were nineteen!"

Mike stuck his lips out and raised his eye ridges. "Hn, brilliant."

Don nudged the freckled mutant, "Brilliant? What are you British?"

_Maybe a little, I did spend almost a year total in the U.K._

A few moments passed before Don couldn't help himself. "Was that German, Mikey?"

Mike looked up at Donnie with a strange look on his face as he slowly answered, "Yes, Don."

"Huh. Didn't know you could speak German."

The shorter turtle nearly grinned.

_There's a lot you don't know about me, brother._

Mike let a small, genuine smile creep on his face as he sat in comfortable silence with his brother. He felt himself leaning toward the taller shoulder, his subconscious obviously intending to use it as a makeshift headrest. Michelangelo caught himself and straightened, his muscles tensing. His face scrunched in pain.

_**A grin flashed, bright eyes smiling before widening in terror as blood spurted everywhere...**_

Mike sucked in a deep breath and opened his own eyes, deep, dark blue staring blankly at the concrete floor. He felt Don's body stay relaxed. Good, his panic attack hadn't been noticed by the Lair's resident medic.

"You know what, Don, I think you're right. I'm going to take a quick nap, that okay with you Doc?" Mike faked a yawn and squinted. He focused on slowing his heartbeat to a beat that resembled one of an unconscious creature. Donatello looked on slightly concerned, but stood. "Alright, Mikey." He darted in uncharacteristically for an impromptu hug. It took Mikey by surprise and he went ridged and forgot how to respond. Don ignored this in favor of holding his little brother as close as he could.

Don whispered, "We missed Mikey. We missed you, _so_ _much_. Thank you for coming home."

Mike blinked rapidly in confusion and to combat the quickly welling up tears.

_Ah fuck._

He hesitantly raised his arms in an attempt to reciprocate. Michelangelo awkwardly embraced his elder brother back and patted and rubbed Don's shell. The pair stayed together for another minute until Donnie broke away. The genius sighed and gave another quick hug before heading toward the door.

"I'll come back to check on you later, Mikey. I gotta go speak to Master Splinter and the others." Donatello walked and the wooden door clicked quietly shut.

Mike hummed to show that he heard and limped over to his bed. He laid down and tugged Leo's old blanket over top of him and burrowed into the pillows. He was nearly asleep when a startling thought blazed through his mind and jolted him.

_Don has to talk to Sensei? But, that could only be possible if..._

Mikey sat up rapidly, eyes wide.

_If he was alive._

* * *

><p><strong>HI! *dodges brick*<strong>

**Woah, woah, woah! Calm yo selves! Really sorry for the incredibly late chapter. I will not say I will update sooner the the last time. I'll be honest with you and say I'll _try _to update sooner.**

**'Kay, with that out of the way...**

**I don't have a beta. *Sigh* Yes, that's why this fiction has been all over the place un-formatted. And I re-read it and noticed some plot holes and stuff that'd I'd really like help with fixing.**

**I'd would like to have one that'd be willing to use google docs or the x docs that FF supplies.**

**With that said,**

**Adieu!**

**TBC**


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